Lakewood Memorial (11 page)

Dalton shook his head and climbed to his
feet. "No way. This is working."

"Maybe she's right," said Maylee.

"No!" said Dalton, glaring up at her. "Let
me do this! I can do this. And we'll get to talk to Mom because I
did it."

He stepped away from the light of the hole,
looking for another light. The unfinished basement was cluttered
and dusty, with abandoned tools lying on the floor where the
landlord had left them. Dalton knelt and found a wrench, then a
rusty hammer, then a flashlight.

He clicked the flashlight
on and a dim, dingy light came from it. Like the battery was
weak.
Have to hurry
, he thought.
Battery won't last
long
.

"Dalton!" came Maylee's voice.

Dalton stepped back into the light. "I found
a flashlight!"

"Great," said Maylee. "You can use it to
blind the dead people. Just get up here."

"Dammit, Maylee. Let me do this."

Maylee frowned down at him. Brooke appeared
back in the hole. Maylee pushed her away. "Okay. Go. But be
careful."

Dalton nodded, clicked on the flashlight,
and stepped away from the light. He decided to check outside
first.

Using the dim light in his hand, he slowly
made his way to the door. The door had a small window with a
curtain. He pulled the curtain back and peeked out. He couldn't see
anything, so he stepped back and looked at the door itself. It was
locked, just like he'd expected. He put an ear to the door and
listened. Nothing. Or at least, nothing loud.

Then again, he realized, how loud would dead
people be?

He grabbed the deadbolt and turned. The lock
clicked open. Dalton stopped to listen. Again, nothing.

He drew in a breath and pushed the door
slowly open.

The grass of his backyard
greeted him. Dark and silent. The moonlight he'd seen before was
gone.
Cloudy
,
Dalton thought.
Just
great
.

He stuck his head out to look around. Just
in time to see a corpse stumble around the corner.

Crap!
He snapped off the flashlight and ducked back inside,
shutting the door as silently as he could. He heard the thing
drawing near. He'd gotten a good look at it. It was the man they'd
seen out the window earlier. The one with his head bent all the way
back. So maybe it hadn't seen Dalton. Had it?

The shape of the corpse appeared in the
door's window. It moaned, muffled by the wood of the door. It
stopped just outside the window.

Crap. It saw me. Or it can smell me.

And he hadn't gotten a ladder ready to climb
back up the hole. Was there even a ladder down here? How could he
be so stupid?

He swallowed, his heart pounding, and stared
at the shape in the window.

With a groan, the shape shuffled out of
view.

Dalton breathed out. It hadn't noticed
him.

He clicked the flashlight back on and
scanned the basement for a ladder. He found one, rusting in a
corner. He grabbed it and dragged it to the hole. It was the kind
that opened to stand on its own, which was a relief. He opened it
and placed it under the hole. He looked up at Maylee.

"Okay. All clear," he said. "You guys start
banging in about five minutes."

Maylee nodded and disappeared from view.

Dalton drew himself up and turned to head
for the door.

Sixteen

Angie heard movement coming from the utility
closet. She stepped away from the nurse's desk and ran over.

Park was coming down the ladder, a rifle
slung over one shoulder.

"My god," she said. "I can't believe that
honestly worked."

Park snorted. "Thanks a lot." He stepped
away from the ladder.

Kristen was kneeling by Mr. Paulson's
wheelchair, helping Freeda check the oxygen tank. She stood up and
walked over to the closet. "Sam? Where's Sam? We heard a lot of
noise."

Sam appeared on the ladder. "I bet you did.
That was genius-boy smashing the outside ladder. We aren't getting
out that way now." He dropped to the bottom of the closet and
adjusted his glasses.

"We weren't getting out that way before,
anyway," said Park. He pulled a box of ammo from his pocket and
started loading the rifle.

"Well, it's nice to have options," said Sam.
He nodded to Kristen, who smiled and walked back over to Mr.
Paulson.

"Okay," said Angie,
checking her cell phone for any missed calls. There were none.
"Let's get ready to move." She nodded to Freeda, who nodded
back.
Dear God, let my kids be
okay
.

Sam was frowning about something. "Give me a
second," he said, stepping into the hallway. "Gotta get this thing
loaded."

* * *

Sam stepped into the hallway and fumbled
with his gun. Dammit, Kristen hadn't even touched him. He'd nearly
died out there, and she hadn't even touched him.

Her dad. Always her dad. She barely looked
at Sam anymore.

Of course he'd said okay
when the old man needed to move in. How could he not? But the old
man took so much damned time and attention. Sam was forty-five and
childless. They'd never have children at this rate. Hell, the old
man
was
their
child. A vulgar, hateful child.

Hot tears stung his eyes and he took off his
glasses to rub them. No time for this. No time for crying or for
being a whiny little bitch about life. Time to man up.

He put the glasses back on and felt around
in his pocket for the box of ammo.

Moaning came from the nearest patient
room.

Panic shot up Sam's back. How'd those things
get inside? How many of them were there?

Then he realized. It was just Park's
friend.

He breathed out and started to the others
for help. Then he cursed himself.

Fuck, does the pussy need help checking on
some sick asshole? Dammit, Shuab, be a man!

He sighed and stepped into the patient
room.

The sick guy was lying on the bed, moving
his head from side to side. The guy's eyes were cloudy and his
mouth chewed slowly at nothing.

"Hey, Moe? It is Moe, right? Are you
okay?"

Moe said nothing. He moved his head around
and moaned. He hadn't blinked since Sam had entered.

"Looks like we'll be getting out of here
soon, thanks to your buddy's guns," Sam continued.

Moe said nothing.

"Well, fuck you then. What do I look like, a
nurse?"

Sam turned to leave. Moe let out a long
groan.

Sam turned back. "Shit, that sounded bad.
You okay?" He stepped over to look down at Moe.

His glasses slipped down his nose. Sam
cursed and took them off. "Hate these things."

Moe sat up and bit.

Moe's teeth closed on Sam's cheek and eye.
Skin gave way and peeled back. Sam's eye was punctured. Blood and
something thicker ran down Sam's cheek as his body shook
involuntarily. Hot pain shot through Sam's head and for a moment he
was too shocked to scream. Moe's head slid down to Sam's throat and
bit. Sam felt a chunk of his neck pull free. He tried to scream
then and couldn't. His voice box was gone. Moe moaned and
chewed.

Sam's knees buckled and he dropped. Blood
flowed fast. He tried crawling for the door. He was getting weak
fast. Moe dropped off the bed onto Sam's back. Sam felt Moe biting
into the back of his head. Scalp and hair tore away.

Oh shit, Kristen. Kristen. I'm sorry.

He felt dizzy. Far away from the sounds of
Moe chewing.

Then he was dead.

* * *

Angie spun away from Freeda as a loud
"thump" came from the hallway. Everyone stopped what they were
doing.

"Shit," she said. "What was that?"

"Dunno," said Park as he finished loading
the rifle. He slung the gun over his shoulder. "Let's see."

Angie and Park rushed into the hallway, then
turned to enter Moe's room. Angie gasped when she saw.

Moe straddled Sam's body, chewing at an open
wound in the back of Sam's head. Sam's head rocked from side to
side in rhythm with Moe's bites.

"Oh god," said Angie.

"Oh dammit, Moe," said Park.

Mr. Paulson's voice came from the nurse's
station. "What the fuck is it now?"

Park took the rifle from his shoulder. Moe
looked up at Park. He moaned, a hunk of Sam's flesh falling from
his mouth.

Angie turned to Park. "Listen to me, Parker.
He's not your friend anymore and..."

Park fired right through Moe's brain. Moe
fell backward, legs splayed, and slumped against the side of the
bed. His head fell to one side. He was still.

"Yeah," said Park, lowering the rifle. "No
shit." Park sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"Sam!" shrieked Kristen from behind them.
She pushed past and rushed to Sam's body. "Oh god, god no! No!" She
knelt and cradled his head. Blood and muck ran down her lap.
"Honey! No!"

Angie swallowed. "I'm so sorry..."

"The hell you are!"
Kristen yelled. "Sam was right! This
is
all your fault! You led us back
here!"

"Listen lady," said Park, leveling the rifle
at Sam. "You're going to have to move."

Kristen gasped and pulled Sam's body closer.
"You keep away from him!"

"What the hell are you doing in there?"
yelled Mr. Paulson from the nurse's station.

Freeda ran back and saw. "Oh shit."

Park sighed and lowered the gun. "What the
fuck lady? He's already dead."

Kristen sobbed and clutched Sam's body. "You
are NOT going to shoot him!"

Angie turned to Park. "Listen. It looks like
the head's already injured, so maybe..."

Park shook his head. "Not deep enough. We
have to be sure."

Angie turned back. Kristen was sobbing and
rocking Sam's body back and forth. "Listen, Kristen..."

"Shut up!" Kristen shrieked.

"I'm all alone out here, dammit!" yelled Mr.
Paulson from the nurse's station.

Kristen sobbed.

Angie spoke as softly as she could.
"Kristen, we have to be sure. You saw what happened to Moe. If we
aren't sure, he'll get back up and he won't be your husband." She
felt like a fraud. If her kids were dead, she'd be done. Would she
listen to anyone trying to give her perspective?

Please God, please, don't let my kids be
dead.

Kristen looked down and sobbed.

"Will some-fucking-one please come help the
crippled fucking old man!" yelled Mr. Paulson.

Kristen took a deep, ragged breath and
nodded. "Okay. But let me do it."

Park frowned, lowering the rifle further.
"You know how to use this?"

Kristen nodded and wiped her eyes. "I know
enough."

Angie nodded and took the gun from Park.
"Okay then. Here." She handed the rifle to Kristen. Kristen's hands
shook as she took it.

"Thank you," said Kristen.

"We'll give you a moment," said Angie,
turning back toward the door. Park was blocking the way.

He frowned at her. "You sure about
this?"

Angie nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Angie, Park and Freeda moved slowly back out
to the nurse's station. Mr. Paulson was complaining and yelling for
his daughter, but Angie couldn't focus on the words. They all
waited nearly ten minutes.

A shot came from the other room. And the
sound of Kristen sobbing.

Seventeen

Dalton gripped the
flashlight and opened the door. He saw only the backyard, silent
and still. A little brighter now
. The moon
must be back.
He snapped the flashlight
off and stuck his head outside the door. He looked both ways.
Nothing.

He took a deep breath. He heard Maylee and
Brooke start banging on the bathroom door. He heard the corpses
moan in response.

"Hey!" came Maylee's voice, sounding far
away and muffled. "We're in here! Come and get us!"

Dalton ducked out the door and into the
yard.

He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to
the moonlight and to listen. He heard moaning here and there, but
nothing close. He swallowed and headed for the side of the
house.

Rounding the corner, he saw nothing. He
sighed in relief and walked as quietly as he could up the side of
the house. He stopped at the corner, where he could see the
street.

A few corpses were wandering up the street.
At least Dalton assumed they were corpses. They moved too slowly
and too strangely to be human. None of them saw Dalton.

He heard screams somewhere far off. Voices
he didn't recognize. Screams of pain or fear. Maybe an alarm, too
far away to be sure.

He steeled up his courage and poked his head
around the corner. The front yard looked clear. He smiled and
stepped out, facing the side of the front stoop.

Cold hands closed on his throat from
behind.

Without thinking, Dalton dropped to his
knees. The move was out of panic more than anything else, but he
slipped free of the corpse's fingers. He spun onto his rear and
looked up.

It was a woman with blond hair and ...

Dalton blinked.

Mrs.
Harris
. His teacher. He recognized her
blond hair and green eyes, but the bottom half of her face was torn
to shreds. A wet cavity of blood and meat. Her tongue flopped from
side to side. Two bones on each side of her face, what was left of
her jaw, worked up and down. She reached for him.

Dalton screamed, clambered to his feet, and
ran.

He ran to the front porch and looked inside.
The living room was a wreck. A big group of corpses was clustered
outside the bathroom door, groaning at Maylee and Brooke as they
banged on the door from inside. The corpses didn't notice him, but
they were blocking the way to the kitchen. He'd have to use the
side door, the one the eyeless man had come through.